


Tender Offerings

by feeling_warm_and_bright



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Incest, Kink Negotiation, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Mentions of Nonconsensual Kink, Mentions of Past Dub-Con/Non-Con, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-10 20:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18415517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeling_warm_and_bright/pseuds/feeling_warm_and_bright
Summary: For a prompt at the UA Kink Meme: https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=349724#cmt349724"Klaus slept around to survive and have a roof over his head so he had to consent to a lot of his partners' kinks and fetishes. But his preference is really just vanilla sex. He hasn't told Diego yet because his habit is to learn his partner's kink and roll with it. Diego, unlike Klaus' other partners, makes an effort to learn what he actually likes."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be way longer than I anticipated, gah! I just have a lot of feelings about these two and the way they have both been through so much and they are both just absolutely ride or die for each other. Next chapter should be more about Klaus's actual preferences (y'know, like in the actual prompt) I promise!

Diego is-- _concerned_ . And in accordance with pretty much every aspect of his life, it revolves around Klaus. It really shouldn’t surprise him, at this point, after decades wearing grooves in the floor pacing out his worry over the idiot, but it always manages to catch him a little bit off guard. The sheer _intensity_ of the anxiety trailing its fingers up and down his spine should be old hat at this point, considering how often Klaus found himself in some sort of horrific trouble, but that was Klaus for you, he supposed. Just when he thinks he’s got everything all figured out and lined up in neat little rows, Klaus throws a curveball and overturns the whole production.

 

The issue with this particular problem--well, _one_ of the issues, anyway--was that it was a bit too intangible for Diego’s comfort. Typically when something was threatening Klaus--or causing him any sort of distress whatsoever--Diego could simply grab his sharpest knives and either make goddamn sure the problem _knows_ never to set foot in the same fucking state as Klaus ever again, or just make things simple and put the problem six feet under. This was-- _trickier_. This was rooted very deeply in Klaus’s understanding of the way the world works and of his own place and role within it. Unfortunately, it’s just a little bit harder to stick a knife into someone’s self concept.

 

The other main issue was that as much as it was freaking Diego out, he is absolutely certain Klaus doesn’t realize that it’s a problem at all. In fact, judging from the concerned looks he catches when he turns his head fast enough or the narrowed, vigilant eyes that peer over his shoulder as though standing watch, Diego knows Klaus is ready and willing to throw down with anyone as soon as he finds the culprit of Diego’s current stress.

 

It had taken a bit for the strangeness of the situation to fade away in the beginning, when Diego--so used to being the _protector_ \--first began to try and accept that yes, Klaus was bringing him food and wrapping him in blankets and threatening to physically fight Chuck fucking Beeman when he made the mistake of engaging in some good natured teasing that was apparently very much misinterpreted by Klaus, but not because he thought Diego _couldn’t_ do these things for himself. Just because Klaus likes making people happy, wants to see the people he loves warm and content and _safe_ . These days the gestures just make something soft curl up around his heart--with the added bonus of being able to drag Klaus in under the blankets where he always _immediately_ tucked himself in snug and happy against Diego’s side, practically purring like a gangly, oversized cat. Plus, the look on Beeman’s face when Diego had to rush to snag the whirlwind of bony limbs out of the fucking air before Klaus could actually tackle him to the ground was pretty fucking priceless and an image Diego will certainly treasure for the rest of his life.

 

He’s startled from his reverie when that same whirlwind of bony limbs plops himself down onto Diego’s lap, and if Diego didn’t already know from experience the lecture would be completely ignored he would definitely be explaining, _again,_ why it was not a very wise idea to sneak up and pounce on someone twirling a knife in his hand.

 

He can feel the stern expression on his face melting away into something soft and sappy despite his best efforts, but in his defense it’s really hard to even pretend to be mad at Klaus when he’s reaching gentle hands up to cup Diego’s face and stroke his thumbs across his cheekbones, staring up at Diego with something close to reverence. As though Diego were something good and pure and _treasured_.

 

Diego snorts a laugh as Klaus bats his eyelashes up at him, legs somehow tucked up to fit his the entirety of his lanky frame up into Diego’s lap, his head resting on Diego’s chest, positioned so his ear can lay right up against the quiet steady beat of Diego’s heart. It’s Klaus’s favorite way to sit these days, a position he seems to find immensely comforting, and Diego’s certainly not going to complain. Not when it means he can wrap his arms around Klaus and feel like, even for just this moment, he can keep him safe from anything and anyone.

 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Klaus’s tone is light and fond, but Diego knows him well enough to spot the worry in his tensed shoulders, and in the way he shifts to trace gentle fingers over Diego’s lips with one hand, the other tapping an absent beat against his sternum. Diego presses a feather light kiss to the pads of Klaus’s fingers, nipping the very tip of his ring finger just to hear him laugh.

 

“You’ve had your _broody_ face on this whole week.” Klaus moves his hand away from Diego’s face, skimming down his neck to tickle across his clavicle, smooth over his shoulders, and Diego knows how much the simple warmth of his body against Klaus’s hands serves to calm him, ground him in the here and now. “Which wouldn’t necessarily be _so_ strange, but you also seem to be pretty set on pretending like you’re _not_ moping around the house, which usually means you’re either worried that something’s too dangerous to tell me about, or you think it’s gonna make me mad.”

 

Diego huffs a halfhearted laugh, arms tightening around Klaus’s thin chest almost of their own accord, “I don’t _mope_. Or brood.”

 

“You absolutely _do_ mope, and I honestly can’t believe you were able to deny that with a straight face. And don’t think I didn’t notice you sidestepping the question, by the way.”

 

“Technically, you made a statement, you didn’t _ask_ anything, so there really isn’t anything to sidestep.”

 

“Oh my god, fine. Diego--my dearest, _darlingest_ Diego--what in the fuck has got you acting so cagey lately?”

 

Diego opened his mouth but was cut off by Klaus flicking his nose, “and I swear to god, if you try to say you’re not acting cagey, I really will get mad.”

 

And he says it like a joke, like he’s teasing, but Diego has learned--with a _lot_ of practice--to recognize the truth that’s always, _always_ hidden underneath Klaus’s jokes. He can see the frustration in the set of his jaw, and more than that the _hurt_ in the furrow of his brow and the lines around his eyes. And Diego can’t help the little squirm of guilt at that, because he knows how much Klaus treasures the overwhelming trust Diego has in him. How _terrified_ Klaus is of losing that trust, of somehow not being _worthy_ of it.

 

Diego must take a bit too long to think over his answer, because he _feels_ the way Klaus shrinks away into himself, shoulders wilting as he pulls his hands away to tuck up against his own chest, and it startles Diego enough to forget what he was going to say, because he doesn’t have any idea what he’s done to make Klaus look so small and _scared_.

 

“Are you--did I do something wrong?”

 

The whispered question catches Diego off guard--the way it always, _always_ surprises Diego when he sees Klaus preparing himself for the rejection he seems so sure is coming. As though Diego is even capable of walking away from Klaus, as though Klaus hasn’t so quickly become the sun his whole world revolves around, as though the mistakes Klaus has made in the past come anywhere _close_ to being enough to outweigh every precious thing Diego adores about him.

 

But Diego forces his uncooperative mouth back into gear because he _knows_ that the longer it takes for him to answer, the more and more nervous Klaus is going to get, trapped in his own head amongst all the vile things so many fucking people have spit at him.

 

“ _No_ ! No, it’s not--” he cuts himself off because, well, technically it is _about_ Klaus, but, “you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not even a little mad at you, I promise.”

 

“Then what aren’t you telling me?”

 

And Diego takes a deep breath, taking just a moment under Klaus’s watchful, anxious gaze to organize his thoughts. He was kind of hoping that some sort of magical solution would drop right down in front of him if he could just think it through from enough different angles, but he knows it’s naive and bordering on downright childish to even consider it. People have been taking and _taking_ from Klaus for so, so long, and Diego knows those wounds have had too much time to fester underneath the surface. Sometimes there’s nothing for it but to hold on tight and lance the wound as gently as possible.

 

“Do you remember, last week, when we were talking about--”

 

“About _what_ ? Fucking? Is that it, you’ve just been looking for a way to tell me nicely that you--you--what? Gave it some thought and finally decided you’re done playing games with the stupid, fucked up _junkie_?”

 

And Diego knows, he _knows_ that Klaus gets like this when he’s scared. He knows Klaus has been beaten down so many times he’s learned the only way to lessen the pain of incoming blows is to be the one to strike first--and, _oh_ , does Klaus know how to strike fast and deadly when he needs to, this isn’t even close to the worst thought Klaus has accused him of secretly harboring. Knows that Klaus doesn’t _really_ think that lowly of him, doesn’t really think him to be that cruel or uncaring and he _knows_ this is Klaus’s own insecurity and issues with self worth coming to the surface.

 

Knowing it doesn’t make the accusation hurt any less, though.

 

“Could you stop putting words in my mouth, just for a second?”

 

And god, does Diego regret hissed words before they’ve even left his mouth. Before Klaus springs up from his lap as though he’s been _burned_ , always so sensitive to any shift in tone, even more than the words themselves, and Diego immediately puts his hands out, ducking his head to catch Klaus’s eyes but staying down on the couch. Giving Klaus space and it’s hard, all he wants to do is gather Klaus up in his arms once more and rub gentle hands up and down his back, but he doesn’t want Klaus to ever, _ever_ feel trapped by him.

 

“I’m sorry. Klaus, baby, I’m sorry. I just--”

 

“I don’t--I don’t know what I did?”

 

And he _hates_ that no matter how many times Diego reassures Klaus that he is safe and he is _loved_ , he is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Diego knows it’s not to do with him, not really, but born of navigating a world where every answer Klaus gives is the wrong one, a world where there is _always_ a punishment waiting for him.

 

Diego knows there’s no easy way to reverse that way of thinking--not when he knows from some of Klaus’s stories, whispered like confessions in the dark against his neck, how many times this sort of defensive hypervigilance kept Klaus _alive_ \--so he takes a deep breath and makes sure his voice is soft and gentle when he speaks.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Klaus, I _promise_. I’m just--worried. You know how much of an asshole I am when I get worried.”

 

The band wrapped tight around his chest eases just a little as he sees the corner of Klaus’s mouth lift up, sees the quick, aborted twitch of his fingers reaching out to him. So Diego stretches his arm out a little further, flipping his palm face up in an open invitation while making sure Klaus is the one to decide whether or not to take it. He can’t help the sigh of relief when Klaus barely hesitates before taking his hand in his own, the movement still unsure but so much progress from the full body flinches he hadn’t been able to hide the first few times he and Diego had argued.

 

“You’re not that bad.” Klaus laughs, quiet but genuine, when he catches sight of Diego’s skeptical glance. Diego knows he has a tendency to snap, too used to dealing with his particular brand of violent company, watching and waiting for his own other shoe to drop. Snapping when he’s hurt or nervous because it’s easier, it’s _safer_ , and nobody ever took the time to teach him how to say _I know you are hurting and I_ **_hate_ ** _to see you hurt but I don’t know how to_ **_help_ ** _._

 

But Klaus just shakes his head, smile fond even if a little sad around the edges, “I mean it, you’re not. I know I’m a handful.”

 

Diego holds his hands up, squeezing Klaus’s own hand just a little, “guess that’s why god gave me _two_ hands, then, huh?”

 

He manages to keep a straight face for about half a second, breaking into a grin as soon as he hears Klaus’s bark of laughter.

 

“You’re such a sap.” Klaus gently slides his other hand into Diego’s, stepping in a little closer to stand in between Diego’s knees. And there’s a part of Diego that really, _really_ wants to just leave things here, where Klaus is smiling and secure, because he hates, _hates_ upsetting him. But the other part of him--the _responsible_ part--knows they really do need to have this conversation.

 

“Klaus, last week, when I asked you what, uh--what sorts of things you’re into?” Diego hates the way Klaus is instantly on guard again, not pulling away quite yet but obviously wary. “You never answered me.”

 

“Um, yes, I did.”

 

Diego skims his thumbs over the back of Klaus’s hands, drawing as much comfort from the movement as he’s attempting to give, “no, baby, you told me you’re ‘fine with anything’. That’s--that’s not really an answer.”

 

Klaus shrugs, tight and jerky, “I’ll do whatever you want, Diego, it’s cool. I don’t see why you’re making it into a big deal.”

 

“I don’t want to do something you don’t like--”

 

“You won’t, don’t worry about it.”

 

Diego forces a smile that he’s sure is every bit as fragile as he’s feeling right now, but he knows he can’t give up now, “okay, but I’d still feel a lot better if you could help give me some--y’know, guidelines.”

 

Klaus looks at him like he’s got _no clue_ what he’s supposed to say, so he gently prompts him again, “Klaus, can you tell me some of the things you--you’re into? Or, some of the things you’re _not_ into, that can be a good starting place, too.”

 

And that look is back in Klaus’s eyes, the look that was the first thing to raise those red flags in Diego’s mind. Because Klaus’s eyes are just a little bit frantic as he studies his face and Diego can _see_ him trying to figure out what the right answer is. As though this is some sort of test. As though there’s a _wrong_ answer that will cause Diego to fly off the handle. And, god, he probably should have seen this coming, he _knew_ Klaus had long ago been taught to view his own body as just one more bargaining chip, had dealt with far too many people who really would have had a punishment ready and waiting in case Klaus hadn’t given them the answer they wanted. But Klaus was always so cavalier when it came to dismissing all the shit he’s had to wade through. It’s so easy to forget, sometimes, where the landmines are.

 

Finally, Klaus gives another stiff shrug, barely more than a twitching of his shoulders, “I don’t--why do you keep asking that? I already told you, I’m down for anything.”

 

Diego opens his mouth before snapping it shut again, because his first instinct is to start giving options--he’s learned Klaus often feels more comfortable if a question with infinite choices is narrowed down to _would you like this or would you like that_ \--but Klaus also has a tendency to try and pick the one he thinks _Diego_ wants. It’s a habit that could be considered harmless, if a little heartbreaking, when Diego is trying to figure out what Klaus wants him to make for dinner. When talking about something like this, something that has the potential to legitimately hurt and/or traumatize him, it’s suddenly very, _very_ much harmful.

 

It’s hard, though, because Klaus is clearly confused and _afraid_ \--when Diego slides one up over Klaus’s wrist, gently stroking up and down his forearm, the muscles in his arm seem tight enough to _snap_ \--and Diego really, _really_ doesn’t know what he can do to make things better. What he needs to avoid in order not to make things _worse_.

 

He finally comes to the conclusion, after some thought, that the problem is he’s trying to solve this whole, complicated issue _right now_. As if he just has to figure out the right words to say in order to heal damage that has woven itself into every part of Klaus’s life. He needs to, first, accept that this is not going to be one long, painful conversation that will leave everything wrapped up in a nice little bow.

 

This will be _many_ probably long, probably painful conversations. This will be going over the same thing again and again, because he’s starting to feel like Klaus just has this running table in his mind with two columns on it, labeled on one side _Reasons I am Both a Terrible Person and The Very Personification of Filth, Completely Unworthy of Love or Even Kindness_ , and on the other _Reasons I’m Maybe an Okay Human Being. Maybe._ Diego is really, _really_ trying to give him evidence that he is in fact one of the very best people Diego has ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he also has to realize that most of the people Klaus has dealt with before this have taken great pleasure--quite possibly in the literal sense--in damning and degrading him.

 

So, with new resolve, Diego looks at Klaus and--

 

Stops.

 

And _looks_ at Klaus.

 

Klaus, who is still holding himself as though he’s half expecting to get sucker punched. Klaus, who looks as though he’s shifting uncomfortably in his own skin. Klaus, who could not be more clearly radiating _please, stop_ if he were holding up a giant sign reading _I DON’T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH WHAT IS HAPPENING!!!_

 

And Diego wants to take himself into a dark alley and kick the absolute shit out himself for:

 

a.) Upsetting Klaus in the first place, because even on occassions when he _knows_ it’s necessary, there is little he hates more than making Klaus feel uncomfortable in any way

 

and

 

b.) Taking _way_ too fucking long to realize it’s probably a good time to back off. Klaus is really only repeating the same few sentences in different ways, so they’re kind of just going round and round in a big circle that is accomplishing nothing but making the both of them tense and upset.

 

Besides, Diego realizes, here he is lamenting how many people have pressured Klaus into doing something he was uncomfortable with, while at the same time _pressuring Klaus into doing something he was uncomfortable with._ Sure, this is an important conversation that they need to have for _both_ of their comfort and well being, but Diego feels this is a good start, right? It’s clearly overwhelming for Klaus, so maybe it’s a good time to stop and give him a little bit of time and space to actually think things over.

 

“Hey,” he tickles his fingers over the spot on Klaus’s arm that always makes him twitch and giggle--having learned a while ago that physical affection went a long way towards helping Klaus recenter himself after something unbalanced him-- “you don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay? I just--think it over, yeah?”

 

Klaus bites his lip, looking down at his feet for a moment, but the smile he gives when his eyes meet Diego’s once more is a little more steady, a little more genuine, and Diego has an idle thought that it’s the kind of look that inspires poetry.

 

Of course, Diego’s never been one with a passion for poetry--at least, no one can _prove_ he’s got a passion for poetry--so instead of mulling over couplets he stands, waiting for Klaus to lean into his chest before wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Klaus presses his face into the crook of Diego’s neck, and it’s really a testament to how often he does this that Diego can feel the words _I love you_ against his skin.

 

“Love you, too,” Diego murmurs, brushing his own lips against the shell of Klaus’s ear. They’ve certainly got a lot to work through, he knows--lord knows the both of them have issues about their fucking issues--but with the solid, familiar weight of Klaus tucked up against him, the grin he can still feel pressed against his neck and Klaus’s barely there humming of some song Diego’s pretty sure he _almost_ recognizes, Diego can say without the barest shadow of a doubt that it is absolutely worth it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I'm incapable of writing sappy fluff without turning it angsty first lmao

Diego drifts, not quite asleep but happy to float in this in-between, mind calm and as close to empty as it ever gets, but still aware enough to listen out for potential threats. Just in case.

 

His sleepy brain is quick to register the footsteps thundering down the hall as  _ safe-love- _ **_home_ ** _ ,  _ giving him just enough time to roll over with a grin before the mattress bounces with the familiar weight of Klaus flinging himself onto it from the doorway. He lays on his stomach for about ten seconds, until his grin fades and his eyes snap open to see why there is still distance on the bed between them. Klaus is always so quick to latch onto him like a long limbed, cuddly octopus, entwining their limbs together as though afraid he’d float away without the anchor. 

 

He finds Klaus watching him--studying him--which isn’t strange in and of itself. Despite the almost frantic energy that seems to flow through Klaus no matter what he’s doing, he’s remarkably observant. Diego remembers as kids, the feeling that Klaus was peering  _ through  _ him, carefully examining everything that made him tick, and he’d spent a long time wondering if there was some ability to slip inside someone else’s mind that went along with Klaus’s link to the dead. These days, he’s seen Klaus direct that look at everything from his siblings, to Five’s inscrutable equations, to the bees he loves to watch flit from flower to flower, and it’s become apparent that Klaus is just  _ curious _ , about anyone and anything. Not to mention remarkably quick to put together puzzles, from crosswords in the newspaper to the best way to approach to crack an uncooperative stranger.

 

Klaus’s arms are still tucked tight against his chest as he watches Diego, legs curled up in that way that always makes him seem so much  _ smaller  _ than his six foot frame, and it takes all of Diego’s willpower to keep him breathing steady and slow, keep himself from crossing this strange distance himself to cover Klaus’s body with his own. Klaus is clearly thinking something over, and Diego wants to give him as much space as he needs to do that, but--well, it’s always harder than he expects. He spent so long on his own, with enough of a distrust of everyone else that physical contact was pretty much limited to the violent variety. It always surprises him, just a little, how much he’s come to genuinely look forward to--and apparently depend on--the way Klaus so enjoys physical affection.

 

Just as he feels his patience about to fray, Klaus sighs, shifting restlessly on the bed--although Diego is quick to note, with more than a little worry, a touch of  _ disappointment _ , that he doesn’t move any closer.

 

“Allison says I’m being stupid.” 

 

And Diego tries--he  _ really does _ \--to keep the flare of anger he feels off of his face, but, well,  _ who the fuck does she think she is? _ He’s pretty sure he doesn’t do a good job of it, in any case, judging by Klaus’s snort of laughter.

 

“Okay, before you go all He-Man on the poor thing, I guess I should clarify that what she  _ said  _ was that it’s perfectly normal to  _ know  _ something, but  _ feel _ something else, and so I should be patient if I’m afraid of things I know won’t happen and work on being more--willing to communicate said fears with you. But she’s too nice to just tell me the truth straight up--which is that I’m being fucking  _ stupid _ \--so I figured I’d paraphrase.”

 

Diego has to take a second to blink at that, because it’s--kind of a lot, and Klaus has a habit of speaking rapid fire without taking a chance to breathe or give Diego a second to play catch up, particularly when he’s nervous. Which is fine, Diego understands, but-- _ why  _ is he nervous? What is he  _ afraid _ of?

 

“Since when is Allison your fucking therapist?” 

 

Diego’s  _ pretty sure  _ he explained to his brain that they should probably cool it with the hostility--it’s not  _ really  _ Allison’s fault that Klaus’s behavior is making him nervous--but apparently somewhere between his brain and his mouth the message was lost in translation. Klaus is always quick to roll with his defense mechanisms, though, so he simply flashes his freshly painted nails with a smile and a roll of his eyes.

 

“Ah,” and that actually does answer that question, oddly enough, “Boy Talk?”

 

“Boy talk,” Klaus grins, and he’s clearly aiming for calm and relaxed but he tucks his hand back underneath his chest and there’s still so much damn  _ space  _ between them, and Diego’s just about ready to close the distance himself when he realizes--

 

“You talk about me at Boy Talk?”

 

Klaus snorts a laugh--the special laugh he uses when he thinks Diego is being particularly slow on the uptake, which Diego will deny to his  _ dying day  _ he finds just a little bit endearing, “well,  _ obviously _ , you’re my boy.”

 

It’s a testament to how well Klaus knows him that Diego barely even has time to open his mouth to retort before Klaus cuts in once more, “oh my  _ god _ , fine, you’re my Big Strong Man, the point still stands. Who else would I talk about?”

 

“I don’t know,” Diego tries to look like he’s not preening just a little bit, but the fond grin Klaus is giving him suggests he’s not  _ entirely  _ successful, “you never let me listen in.”

 

“Well,  _ duh _ , Boy Talk is sacred, Diego. It’d be like if a priest let you spy on confession--he’d go straight to hell.”

 

“That’s not ho--”

 

“You don’t want me to go to hell, do you Diego?” 

 

Diego feels like he should be immune to all the over the top looks Klaus likes to flash when he’s feeling particularly dramatic, but he can’t help laughing, “that’s not how confession works, Klaus.”

 

“How would you know? You’re not even Catholic.”

 

“Neither are you!”

 

“Yeah, well I talked to a dead priest once who gave me the whole scoop. And then, of course, he went straight to hell for breaking his vow of secrecy. Super sad, but very informative.”

 

“You’re so full of shit,” he laughs, letting himself enjoy just looking at Klaus’s answering smile before he takes a breath, slowly letting his hand creep across the mattress to sit halfway between them. Still giving Klaus space if he wants it, but putting the invitation out there. “It also sounds like you’re avoiding the subject of whatever you started talking about.”

 

And, just like that, the look of--not quite fear, but something  _ hesitant _ , something insecure and unsure--is back on Klaus’s face, and Diego  _ hates  _ being the one to put it there. But it’s so hard, sometimes, for Klaus to actually  _ talk  _ about what’s on his mind, particularly if it’s something he’s worried about. He’d made the effort to bring it up, Diego figures he should at least try to give him a little push forwards. It’s tricky, sometimes, finding the balance between a gentle push that will end up being beneficial to him in the end, and putting too much pressure on him, driving him towards retreat and panic attacks. 

 

Klaus is silent for a few beats, giving Diego’s mind just enough time to really start running with possibilities of what might be wrong, before he finally meets Diego’s eyes once more.

 

“You’d never hurt me.”

 

Diego wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this quiet--what? It seems like the kind of thing something would say to reassure themselves--and, god, even the  _ idea  _ that Klaus would need that reassurance terrifies Diego--but it’s said with confidence, despite the hushed tone. Said like it’s a  _ fact _ , and Diego’s not sure how to respond because of course he’d--

 

“Never.  _ Never _ , Klaus. I wou--”

 

“Oh, hey, no, that’s not--” there’s a flash of frustration across Klaus’s face, and Diego’s spent enough time staring at that face to know he’s frustrated with himself, angry that whatever he was trying to say didn’t come out  _ right _ . 

 

Diego’s opening his mouth to reassure him, because he  _ hates  _ how despite the overabundance of patience Klaus has for the people around him he can’t spare any for himself, but he stops as Klaus finally scoots closer, running a hand up Diego’s arm to rest on his shoulder, bumping their knees together and  _ god _ , even such small contact is almost enough to have Diego tearing up in relief.  _ Almost _ .

 

Klaus sighs, thumb stroking softly against the skin stretched over Diego’s collarbone, “that wasn’t supposed to sound like--knowing and feeling, right? I know you’d  _ never  _ hurt me, Diego.”

 

“But you feel like I would?” And Diego doesn’t have it in him to even try and cover up the way his hushed voice shakes, his hand reaching out almost of its own accord to clutch at Klaus’s-- _ thin, thin, too goddamn  _ **_thin--_ ** waist before he can remind himself he’s trying to let Klaus dictate how much space is between them. 

 

But Klaus--always just as attuned to Diego’s needs, Diego’s  _ fears _ , as Diego is to him--just shakes his head, scooting in closer, his hand moving to cup Diego’s cheek as he rests his forehead against Diego’s. And it doesn’t erase  _ all  _ the anxiety thrashing about in Diego’s chest, but it goes a long way towards easing his racing heartbeat. 

 

“It’s not--I don’t think it’s  _ about  _ you,” Klaus’s voice is just as soft as his hand on Diego’s face, just as gentle as the thumb tracing absent shapes against his cheek, “It’s like, muscle memory, y’know? I’m not--I’m not afraid of  _ you _ , okay, Diego? I have  _ never _ been afraid of you, not  _ once _ , I just--I need you to know that. I need--I need you to know that I trust you. With everything.”

 

Diego nods, but stays silent. Partly because he doesn’t trust himself not to burst into very undignified tears if he actually tries to talk--people don’t  _ trust  _ Diego, especially not like this, like he’s  _ special _ \--but mostly because he can see how hard Klaus is trying to sort out what he really wants to say. 

 

“You--” Klaus breaks off, that look of irritation back on his face as he struggles to find the right words, “you always let me hold your hand.”

 

It’s not what Diego’s expecting, but before he can respond with  _ I love to hold your hand, it’s not a hardship _ , Klaus continues, seemingly not wanting to lose his stride now that he’s started.

 

“You let me hold your hand, and sit on your lap, and you always know when I need the really long hugs, and--and you let me steal your blankets even when it’s really fucking cold, and you always let me cuddle with you even though  _ I’m  _ really fucking cold, like, all the time, and you--” he stops, licks his lips and takes a deep breath and-- “you never--you  _ never  _ put your hands on me when you’re mad. Whenever you touch me, it’s always--it’s always really nice. I, um--I like that.”

 

And Klaus is looking at him like he’s waiting for some sort of judgement, but Diego can’t figure out what the fuck they’re talking about until it hits him, like a punch to the fucking gut, the memory of asking  _ Klaus, what are you into, what do you like? _ and jesus  _ fucking  _ christ. Diego might just cry after all, because Klaus is listing these things off like they’re special, like Diego is doing him a  _ favor _ , and Diego doesn’t even have a face-- _ faces _ , something in the back of his mind is quick to correct _ , it takes more than one person to do this _ \--to put to his anger but he knows that in all his years fighting injustice he has never wanted to kill someone quite as badly as he does right now.

 

But right now, Klaus is still waiting, and Diego thinks about  _ knowing  _ and  _ feeling _ , thinks about how much courage it must have taken for Klaus to decide to initiate this conversation, to put his own desires--sweet and simple as they were--out in the open, and so Diego forces everything into a box and pushes it to the side to be looked at later. 

 

For now, he presses a feather light kiss to Klaus’s forehead, noting how the tension instantly seems to bleed from his shoulders, and Diego can’t help but squeeze him tight against his chest as he feels the familiar weight settle against him at last.

 

“Thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

 

“So it’s--that’s okay?”

 

Klaus sounds so goddamn  _ relieved _ and still just a little on edge and it makes Diego want to cut out all the fucking filth in this godforsaken world, bundle up every single piece of  _ rot  _ and  _ scum  _ that ever made Klaus feel like something as simple as asking for a fucking  _ hug  _ was too much, and throw the whole mess into the middle of the fucking sun.

 

He can’t do that, he knows, so he does what he  _ can  _ do and lets Klaus tuck his head underneath his chin, hide his face against his neck as Diego runs gentle hands up and down his still tense spine and hums a soft agreement.

 

“That’s absolutely okay, baby. And you--you know you can always tell me anything, right. Even if you think I wouldn’t like it, it would--we’d figure it out, you’ll never be in  _ trouble  _ just for telling me something you like. You know that, right?”

 

He feels Klaus nod, “I know. It’s just--”

 

“Knowing and feeling, I know.”

 

They’re silent for a moment, Diego simply taking comfort from the rise and fall of Klaus’s chest, the soft breaths against his neck, all the reminders that despite all the shit he’s been through in the past and all the people who have torn him down Klaus made it through, he’s alive and he’s  _ here _ and even if he’s afraid, he trusts Diego not to hurt him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus’s voice, quiet as it is, still makes Diego jump just a little when it breaks the silence of the room, and it takes a moment for Diego to process the statement.

 

“What are you sorry for?”

 

“You like to fix things--you’re good at it, too. I’m sure it’s frustrating that you can’t--can’t fix me.”

 

Diego tightens his hold on Klaus, because he knows that Klaus has been lied to before, knows he trusts actions more than words.

 

“You’re not broken, Klaus.”

 

He hates the huff of laughter that earns him, because there’s nothing unsure or doubting about it. He hates that this is one of the only things Klaus always seems so damn sure of.

 

“I’m not an idiot, Diego. I know exactly how fucked up I am.”

 

“You’re not--” and Diego wishes, not for the first time, that he was better with words, because this is  _ important _ . Even if Klaus believes what he  _ does  _ more than what he  _ says _ , he needs for Klaus to hear this. “Broken means that--that something’s no good anymore.” 

 

He feels Klaus’s breath hitch, just for a moment, but he doesn’t stop--if he stops he’s not sure he’ll know how to pick it back up again.

 

“Broken things are no good, and you’re  _ not broken _ , Klaus. You’ve always put yourself back together, always picked yourself up and kept on going and that’s not fucking broken that’s--” he huffs, he doesn’t feel like he’s putting his thoughts together the way he really wants to but it’s the best he can do, and all he can do is hope that Klaus  _ understands _ , “that’s incredible. You’re  _ incredible _ , Klaus.”

 

Klaus laughs again, but this one is different--this is Klaus’s laugh when he’s overwhelmed, when he’s not sure how to process everything he’s feeling, and Diego just hopes it means that at least a little bit of what he said is making it through.

 

“You help, y’know.”

 

“Help with what?”

 

The smile Diego feels against his neck this time is wider, more open and genuine, “when I put myself back together. You help. I couldn’t do it without you.”

 

“Yeah, you could.” Diego thinks of all the years Klaus spent doing just that, and he can’t help the familiar anger at himself for not helping sooner.  _ How  _ he would have helped he doesn’t know, but his self-recrimination has never been afraid to fight back against silly little things like  _ logic _ .

 

“Well, I wouldn’t  _ want  _ to.” Klaus pulls back, just enough to peek big, earnest eyes up at Diego, “I’m a better person, with you. A happier person, too.”

 

Diego presses his smile against Klaus’s forehead, taking a moment just to enjoy the fact that he’s allowed to have this, Klaus  _ trusts  _ him enough to share this with him.

 

“Yeah, right back at’cha, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think there's only going to be one more chapter, and I think I'm going to try my hand at some smut, so rating will probably go up for next chapter! I'll be prowling through kinkmeme prompts when I finish this one, but if anyone has any Kliego OR Horrance prompts please feel free to throw them my way at feelingwarmandbright on tumblr!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy, so this is gonna end up being longer than I planned but I felt like there needed to be at least a pit stop between the last chapter and the one I'll get out next for the boys to talk about consent. I'm updating the tags because this chapter is from Klaus's perspective and deals with memories of past abuse and his own very skewed self concept--nothing graphic, but definitely something that could be upsetting. I don't have this story marked as Rape/Non-Con since nothing is stated in detail, but if you think I should change that and add that or any other warnings please let me know! I'm also updating the rating, but that'll apply for the next chapter, so nothing explicit in here.
> 
> Also, to everyone that's left me comments, THANK YOU!!!! I'm shit at responding to comments but I have read each and every one of them, and they do so much to help me be confident enough to continue writing this heartbreaking, wonderful ship, and I just wanted to take a sec to say bless you everyone who's left me a comment, y'all are the real MVPs and I appreciate you guys so much
> 
> Enjoy!

Diego’s been acting-- _ weird _ . And, yes, sure, Klaus would be the first to admit that there’s not a person among them that’s actually  _ normal _ , but this isn’t Diego being weird like sliding into a leather body suit to go kick the absolute shit out of crime itself. This is Diego being weird like constantly picking fights with Luther and Five--which, again, Klaus can admit Diego can be a bit prickly sometimes. But Klaus knows he’s been really making an effort to curb that temper, at least around their siblings. And he and Luther had actually been making progress, to the point that Klaus had spent one memorable night sat warm and secure between the two of them for movie night.

 

And now, in the past few days, Diego’s gotten in multiple screaming matches with Luther--more than one escalating to trading blows--as well as giving Five a black eye and getting Vanya angry enough to actually yell back at him. And Klaus could maybe even dismiss all that as stress, a backslide into bad habits because Klaus of all people knows that a few good weeks doesn’t erase a lifetime of bad coping mechanisms, but--

 

There’s space between them, now, and it’s constant and it’s unexplained and Klaus sort of feels like it’s  _ suffocating  _ him. And he knows that it’s because of him, because Diego will always tell him when he’s upset, unless it’s something he deems too dangerous, or it’s something about Klaus himself. And Diego’s certainly not acting like he’s scared of some outside threat, he’s acting like--well, like he’s scared of  _ Klaus _ .

 

Did he come on too strong? Diego always told him it was okay to touch, that he liked the constant hugs and hand holding, loved being snuggled up to on the couch or running his fingers through Klaus’s hair when he put his head in Diego’s lap. But Klaus has had more than a few people point out how clingy he gets, how  _ exhausting  _ it was to deal with his constant need for physical affection and reassurance. Maybe Diego had finally just gotten tired of always being overcrowded?

 

So Klaus backed down, forced himself to stop reaching out for Diego’s hands, stopped trying to sit on his lap or rest his head on his shoulder or just run his fingers up and down Diego’s arms for the feeling of something warm and solid and  _ alive  _ against his skin. It was hard--Diego had always indulged his tendency towards tactile affection even before they’d started dating, and Klaus had to keep his arms crossed tight against his own chest to make sure he didn’t accidentally reach for Diego. It’s--cold, without Diego, and it’s probably a testament to how comfortable Klaus had gotten with Diego that he’s surprised by how frigid everything is without him. But he wants this to work, he  _ needs  _ to find out what he did wrong so he can  _ fix  _ it, because he has lost so fucking much but not Diego,  _ please  _ not Diego. So he crosses his arms and huddles into himself and tries to hide how badly he shivers.

 

It’s naive, probably, to have hoped for everything to just magically fix itself, but if there’s one thing Klaus has always been good at, it’s naive, _foolish_ hope. So no matter how hard he’d been trying to brace himself, it still hurts to see the way Diego now won’t even sit on the same couch as him, actively moves away from him when he forgets not to lean in. Hurts to hear the muttered ‘nothing, it’s fine’ any time he pushes Diego to tell him what’s wrong. Fucking _hurts_ to see Diego hurting and know that it’s somehow his fault, because how could it not be?

 

So it’s back to the drawing board, which in this case means obsessively going over every little interaction he’s had with Diego in the past few weeks to try and pinpoint where, exactly, he went wrong. A task which is made  _ much  _ more difficult, of course, with Ben hovering over his shoulder and trying to distract him, trying to encourage him to go find Allison or Vanya or  _ anyone  _ to talk to, and even, at one point, resorting to listing every shitty thing he’s known Diego to do in an attempt to, apparently, convince Klaus he’s not the only one with issues.

 

Klaus ignores him, though, because of course once he has the time to think it over the answer is obvious. Klaus had known it was stupid, even at the time, to be so  _ demanding  _ with his own  _ stupid _ wants. But Diego had seemed so--not  _ happy _ , because even though he didn’t seem like he was mad, there was still a tightness around his eyes that meant  _ something  _ wasn’t sitting right. But he’d been encouraging, he’d kept thanking Klaus for being open with him, which was nice. But maybe Klaus just took it too far? Diego had only recently started acting weird, so maybe he was fine with hearing about what Klaus  _ did _ like, but when Klaus started telling him what he  _ didn’t  _ like it pissed him off? 

 

The thought makes his hands shake, and he  _ hates  _ it. He’s not afraid of Diego, he’s  _ not _ . Diego has never hit him, or choked him, or held his head underwater, or anything else that others have done when he spoke out of turn. Diego’s not like the man who was so  _ angry  _ when Klaus told him he wasn’t on board with the hot wax, who left burns on his back because  _ whores don’t get a fucking opinion _ . Diego’s so--so  _ sweet _ , and gentle, and kind. So why can’t Klaus fucking breathe?

 

He vaguely hears footsteps approaching down the hallway, distantly registers  _ long  _ and  _ loud _ which always meant  _ Luther _ . He recognizes, in a fuzzy sort of way, that maybe he should stop hiding in the corner, untuck his face from where it’s buried in his knees and bring his hands down from his ears before Luther asks him what the fuck is wrong with him because he’s not sure he could really even answer.

 

“Klaus? Are you in here? Ben sounded worri--oh.”

 

And that explained how Luther knew to come in here, at least. Klaus still doesn’t have complete control over the growing abilities that have accompanied his newfound sobriety, and Ben especially has a tendency to manifest when he’s feeling particularly nervous. He thinks that maybe this is a good time to pull himself the fuck together, stop gasping on the ground and stand up and convince Luther he’s not actually as much of a fucking lunatic as he probably looks. But his legs are shaking and his heart is  _ pounding  _ and he’s not confident that he’d be able to force the words past the lump in his throat, anyway.

 

He hears Luther slowly move into the room, and it warms something in his chest to feel the big lug kneel down next to him, even as he wishes he could just have this weird breakdown in peace. He chances a peek at Luther only to find him with one hand outstretched as though he’s hesitating from making contact, not sure where to touch, and it strikes Klaus suddenly that maybe Diego wasn’t angry after all--maybe he was  _ disgusted _ .

 

Klaus knows he’s been with a lot of people, has let a  _ lot  _ of people do a lot of things to him. Maybe Diego finally realized that, maybe he doesn’t want to touch Klaus because he can see how fucking  _ dirty  _ Klaus is. Maybe Luther is staring at him with growing horror, hands still hovering in the air between them, because he can see into Klaus and knows how  _ filthyfilthyfilthy  _ he is.

 

He can see Luther’s mouth moving but he can’t hear him over the high pitched, desperate noises filling up the room and it’s not until the sob claws its way out of his chest that he realizes it’s  _ him _ . He’s the one making the keening noises that sound like something wounded, sound like something  _ dying _ , and it makes him sob all the harder because all he can think is how he is  _ filthybrokenfilthybrokenfilthy _ **_broken_ ** .

 

He hears Ben’s voice in his ear but he can’t understand what he’s saying, and he’s very distantly aware that Ben is blinking in and out in the way he only ever does when Klaus is  _ really  _ freaking out. It makes him feel like shit--more so than usual, in any case--because he knows how frustrating it is for Ben not to be able to communicate with the others, especially now that they actually know he’s there. Klaus wishes he could actually be  _ helpful  _ to Ben instead of making everything so fucking complicated, wishes Ben could be with someone who wasn’t so fucking  _ (filthybroken)  _ useless.

 

And he thinks he doesn’t blame Diego for wanting to cut ties, if he had the chance he’d walk away from himself in a fucking heartbeat, he’s so fucking worthless, he’s a disappointment, he’s--

 

There are arms around him, pulling him in tight against a large, solid chest and he knows he should push away, shouldn’t make Luther dirty his hands by touching him but he’s always been so  _ selfish  _ and he can’t make himself give up this warmth. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Klaus, you’re okay. It’s just me, it’s Luther, you’re safe here, okay, you’re all right.”

 

Klaus curls in against Luther, letting his steady, soft litany wash against him and slowly,  _ slowly  _ bring him back from the brink. He wonders, in an out of focus way, if he should tell Luther he can stop, Klaus knows it’s him and he’s not afraid of being in  _ danger _ , he’s afraid of being--well, himself. But Luther’s low voice is so soothing, and it gives him something besides his own racing thoughts to focus on. And besides, Klaus knows Luther isn’t great with big emotions--knows he’s still having to try and figure out how to actually exist with other people at all--and the fact that he’s making such an obvious effort to help means more than the words themselves anyway.

 

They stay there for--Klaus doesn’t know how long, actually. Time always passes oddly when he’s that deep in his panic, but it’s long enough for Klaus’s tears to dry up, for his heart to slowly go back to a more  _ normal  _ rhythm and his breathing to even out to something a little less strangled. Long enough for him to hope that hey, maybe the earth will just decide to have a little mercy on him for once and swallow him whole so he doesn’t have to leave the warmth and security of Luther’s arms to face the awkwardness that he’s sure will follow such a spectacular breakdown. 

 

Of course, nothing is  _ ever  _ that easy, so he sits and he breathes and he waits for--well, he’s not quite sure. He  _ thinks  _ that Luther won’t scream at him, or lock him somewhere small and dark and-- _ oh, nonono, let’s not go down that road _ \--because Luther tends to be one of the most laid back among them, especially now that he’s trying so hard to be  _ Luther _ , not worrying quite so much about Number One.

 

But Klaus has been wrong before, like that nice man that turned out to be Not So Nice, who tied Klaus’s wrists  _ tight tight tight  _ to the bedframe and left him for hours when he said the wrong thing. He’s always hated those types of encounters the most, being left alone with only the choking fear of his own bad memories for company, even Ben’s voice fading into the background when the panic really got its hooks into him. 

 

Luther pulls back, and Klaus has a moment to stiffen in fear that he’s going to leave, he’s going to get up and walk away and Klaus thinks a little wildly that maybe he can just find the right combination of buttons to press to piss Luther off enough to start yelling because at least then he’ll have something besides his own out of control thoughts to focus on, at least then he won’t be  _ alone _ he won’t--

 

“Do--are you okay?”

 

And, okay, Luther still looks, well,  _ really  _ freaked out, but he’s not leaving. He looks a little bit like someone who’s just come face to face with some sort of wild animal in the middle of arming a fucking bomb or something, and Klaus almost bursts out laughing before he gets something of a handle on his wildly swinging emotions. Hysterical crying apparently freaks Luther out, so he can only imagine how terrified he would be by hysterical laughter as an immediate follow up.

 

He wipes his face, and pulls back, just a little. He doesn’t quite have it in him to leave the warmth behind entirely, but he doesn’t want to make Luther feel like he  _ has  _ to sit here and hold him, either. He’s not really sure what to do with himself, though, so he just nods, hoping that maybe if he just doesn’t look at Luther he can get out of this with just a little bit of dignity intact.

 

“Oh, okay. Should I--I think, um--I think Allison and Diego were gonna put on a movie, should--do you wanna go find them?”

 

Klaus--doesn’t know, if he’s being honest. He  _ wants  _ to go find them, especially Diego, because Diego is usually so good at knowing how to put Klaus back together when he falls apart like this. But he can’t stop thinking that maybe Diego doesn’t want to have to constantly be picking up all his jagged pieces, maybe he’s sick of how much  _ work  _ Klaus needs, so maybe it’s best to just sort this out himself. It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell Luther to go on without him, but he catches Ben out of the corner of his eye, frantically nodding and gesturing for him to go. And Ben sometimes-- _ most of the times-- _ knows what Klaus needs, what’s actually going to  _ help _ , before Klaus himself does, so he figures he might as well roll with it.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s--that sounds good.”

 

Luther nods, and Klaus waits for him to stand, to walk out and leave Klaus to put himself back together. To his surprise, Luther does stand, but then holds out a tentative hand for Klaus to take. Luther seems to get a little more confident when Klaus takes it, and he keeps a gentle but steady hand on Klaus’s shoulder as they walk in silence down the hall. And there’s definitely still embarrassment prickling along Klaus’s spine--sure, he knows he just had a monumental melt down, but he’s not so fragile that he needs an  _ escort _ \--but it’s nice, to have someone warm and solid at his side as he continues to work on restabilizing himself.

 

That nice, soft feeling lasts right up until they make it to the living room and Klaus spots Allison and Diego sitting on the couch--idly noting that Diego sort of looks like he’s been through the emotional wringer himself--and all Klaus wants to do in collapse against Diego and let himself be wrapped up in his favorite type of hug. The hug where Diego  _ squeezes  _ him against his chest, holding him so tight and so secure that it feels like there’s no room for the fear and the insecurity and the self loathing, like Diego can physically keep away all the fucked up things he’s seen through sheer force of will. The type of hug Diego just always seems to  _ know  _ when he needs. but that Klaus suddenly isn’t sure he wants to give anymore and,  _ fuck _ , he really doesn’t want to start crying again but his legs have started shaking and his throat is tight and he can practically  _ feel  _ the worry radiating off of Luther and--

 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”

 

Diego crosses the space between them with no hesitation, this time, pulling him in and,  _ oh _ , there’s the hug. Klaus knew he’d missed Diego’s physical affection but he apparently didn’t realize  _ how  _ much, because as soon as Diego puts his arms around him he can’t do anything but collapse against his chest and try to  _ breathe  _ as his lungs heave and his heart races. And Diego just holds him, swaying them slightly from side to side as he hums something soft and low in Klaus’s ear, giving him something to anchor him in the here and now and,  _ god _ , Klaus loves him. He barely registers Allison’s soft voice murmuring off to his side, answered by Luther’s quiet rumble, and he hears two sets of fading footsteps that he assumes indicate the two of them giving him and Diego a little bit of time together. He’d be more grateful for that if he wasn’t so focused on soaking up as much of Diego’s warmth as possible. 

 

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

 

Klaus is still feeling more than a little shaky, but he manages a noise of indignation at that because, “no, you’re not. Who told you that?”

 

Diego laughs at that, but Klaus can hear the self reproach in it. “Nobody told me,  _ I  _ told me. Because it’s true.”

 

Klaus peeks one eye open enough to glare up at Diego, “listen, nobody’s allowed to talk shit about you, and you’d better believe that includes you.”

 

The smile that earns him is positively brimming with that soft adoration that always makes Klaus  _ melt _ , and that alone is enough to ease even just a little of the anxiety still sitting heavy in Klaus’s chest.

 

“Can you tell me what made you so upset?”

 

“Oh, that’s--it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

 

And Klaus sees that tightness around Diego’s eyes again, and he can’t help the way he suddenly stiffens because  _ fuck,  _ it’s only been a few minutes and he’s already messing things up.

 

“Klaus--”

 

“Why did you stop touching me?”

 

Klaus is pretty sure--almost positive, really--the what he meant to say was  _ really, it’s nothing, I’m certainly not a fucked up pile of issues barely held together by the emotional equivalent of duct tape and a can do attitude _ , but the question is shooting out of his mouth before he can stop himself and once it’s said, there’s not a whole lot he can do about it.

 

He feels the way Diego flinches at that, and he  _ hates  _ himself for doing that to him, but before he can open his mouth and try to take it back Diego is shaking his head and cutting him off.

 

“No, no, I’m glad you asked, I’m glad, okay? I did something that hurt you--no, listen, okay?” Klaus is prepared to argue about that because Diego didn’t  _ hurt  _ him, Diego’s never done anything to hurt him on purpose like so many of the other people Klaus has known have done, but Diego has that  _ serious  _ face on, the one he only uses when he  _ really  _ wants to get a point across. So Klaus reluctantly shuts his mouth again, nodding after a beat to let Diego know that he was listening.

 

“I didn’t--I didn’t mean to hurt you--god, baby, I  _ swear _ I did not mean to hurt you--but I still did something that made you upset. And you have every right to ask me why I do something, especially if it’s something that hurts you. I  _ want  _ you to ask, okay? You know sometimes I need a little bit of help to get my head out of my ass.”

 

“That’s not--you didn’t do anything wrong, Diego--”

 

“But you did?”

 

And that stops Klaus, because he’s not sure how to answer that. He’s known people before who liked making him list off everything he’d done wrong, but Diego doesn’t look like he’s excited about this. He looks like it  _ paining _ him, and Klaus doesn’t know what to do to make it better so he just shrugs his shoulders and waits for Diego to explain, because Diego  _ always  _ explains when he sees that Klaus isn’t understanding.

 

Diego presses his lips to Klaus’s forehead as he runs gentle but strong hands up and down his back, “it kills me to know that your first instinct when you think someone is mad is to assume  _ you  _ did something  _ wrong _ .”

 

“I’m sorry, I--”

 

Diego shakes his head, that pained look back on his face, “no, Klaus, I’m not--you didn’t do  _ anything  _ wrong, okay?”

 

Klaus is still very much doubtful on that front, but Diego is looking at him as though he’s waiting for a response so he nods anyway. Diego sighs like he knows Klaus is just humoring him, but he just holds onto Klaus a little bit tighter.

 

“This past week, you’ve been telling me about the stuff you don’t like--”

 

“I know, and I’m sorry, that was--I was blowing things out of proportion, you totally don’t have to--”

 

“Klaus, hey, no, I’m not mad about you having limits, okay? I’m really, really glad that you were able to share them with me.”

 

“But?” Because clearly there’s more to this, because  _ some  _ part of their previous conversations made Diego uncomfortable enough to go hands off. Diego pulls back just a little, but before Klaus can panic that the moment’s passed and this is where Diego walks out on him, Diego cups his face in his hands, gentle but firm in that way that means he really wants Klaus to  _ hear  _ what he’s saying.

 

“I am not mad at you. There’s no buts about that, you didn’t do  _ anything  _ wrong, and I am so, so sorry I made you feel like you did. I just--Klaus, have you ever slept with someone you  _ wanted  _ to sleep with?”

 

Klaus blinks at that, waiting for the clarification but Diego looks just as lost as he feels, so he finally speaks up. “I don’t--I don’t understand?”

 

It’s--Klaus, everything you’ve told me, it sounds like everyone you’ve been with has been while you were--you were high, or you needed a place to stay or--or fucking  _ food _ . And it--I’m worried, okay, so--”

 

This time it’s Klaus who steps back. Diego lets him go, but he looks a little like it hurts him to do so. 

 

“I’m--I’m not  _ high _ , Diego.”

 

“No, I  _ know  _ that, I--”

 

“You--do you think I’ve got, what, an  _ angle _ ? That I’m, I’m with you because I  _ want  _ something from you?”

 

“No! No, that’s not--”

 

“I want to be with you, I’m not--I love you, Diego, I’m not, I’m not  _ faking  _ that or--”

 

“Klaus,  _ please _ ,” Diego steps towards him, looking desperate and almost  _ afraid  _ and Klaus doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to  _ say _ so he just shakes his head. 

 

“No, you’re not--you said you’re not mad, you said--”

 

“Klaus, I’m no--”

 

“ _ I don’t understand! _ ” 

 

He’s pretty certain he didn’t mean to  _ yell  _ that, but he’s freaking out more than just a little right now and he needs Diego to explain what the fuck he wants him  _ to do _ .

 

“I know! I know you don’t, Klaus, that’s the  _ problem _ .”

 

Klaus feels a little bit like he’s just been slapped. Although a hit to the face would probably honestly have made more sense, would have been preferable because as it stands he has no fucking clue what to do. How the hell is he supposed to fix the problem if the problem is he doesn’t know what the  _ fuck  _ is going on? 

 

“Tell me what you want me to say. Please?” 

 

And now Diego looks like Klaus just hauled off and sucker punched him in the fucking gut, and Klaus feels like shit for it but he needs Diego to give him  _ something  _ to work with. Diego puts shaking hands over his face and just breathes for several long, silent moments, and Klaus is almost desperate enough to just start throwing out guesses when Diego finally seems to organize his thoughts enough to speak.

 

“I am--I’m worried that you don’t feel safe telling me no.”

 

And Klaus just blinks at him, honestly baffled because, “why would I have to tell you no?”

 

Diego is silent again, one hand over his mouth and it suddenly hits Klaus that Diego looks like he’s about to cry. But-- _ why _ ? Klaus has seen Diego limp back home after bad nights, seen him with open gashes and broken bones and a body more bruised than not, Klaus has watched him and Luther spit the most  _ vile  _ insults and accusations at each other, has watched him tear himself apart to keep other people safe and still he could probably count on one hand the number of times he’s actually seen him cry. But before Klaus can apologize, before he can ask again what he did  _ wrong _ , Diego shakes his head.

 

“Because I don’t want to hurt you, Klaus, I don’t want to  _ ever _ do something to hurt you.”

 

“But--but you won’t, I know you won’t.” Diego opened his mouth but Klaus just kept on going, “no, stop, I’m not--I’m not afraid of you, why are you still so  _ worried  _ about this? You even--you asked me to tell you what I don’t want you to do, nobody’s ever done that it’s--everything’s fine now. I know you won’t do any of that shit, because I asked you not to, and you--you never do stuff I don’t want.”

 

Klaus saw that quick, aborted little shift of Diego’s hand in his direction and he realized that he was still standing about a foot away from Diego, arms crossed tight across his chest as though bracing for a blow and now that he noticed it he can’t believe it took him so long because all he can feel is an overwhelming  _ need  _ for Diego’s arms around him, for the knowledge that he’s safe and loved and clean enough to be worthy of affection. He hesitates, because he still has no idea why Diego seems so afraid of reaching for him but he decides if he’s going to be rejected it would be best to just get it done and out of the way, so he takes a step forward with his hand out and almost  _ cries  _ in relief when Diego immediately pulls him back in to rest against his chest.

 

“I’m not just talking about--y’know, kinks or whatever,” and Diego’s voice still sounds rough and shaky but his arms are warm and steady and so  _ sure, _ that Klaus can’t help but relax just a little into the embrace, “this is--if I ever did or said anything--or asked  _ you  _ to do anything--that made you upset or uncomfortable I’m worried--I don’t know, it just seems sometimes like you feel like you’re not allowed to say no to anything. Like you just have to go along with everything, no matter what it is, and that--god, it’s stupid, and I  _ know  _ I should have just asked you, but I started worrying that maybe you didn’t like me having my hands on you all the fucking time, so I tried to give you a little more space and then suddenly you were keeping so much distance between us and I guess I just freaked out a little, y’know, that this whole time you--you’d been wishing I would stop touching you but you, I don’t know, didn’t feel comfortable asking me. So I tried to give you  _ more  _ space, but I guess that kind of just made things worse, huh?”

 

“I like when you touch me,” which, honestly, probably doesn’t really have to be said considering how tightly he’s clutching onto Diego right now, but he really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to risk Diego getting the wrong idea right now. “You’re always warm, and you give really nice hugs--I don’t know if I’ve told you that, you give the best hugs, I love ‘em. And you smell--I don’t know, like I’m safe.”

 

If Diego’s chuckle is a little bit watery, Klaus decides he’d probably appreciate if he didn’t mention it, so he simply presses his forehead against the curve of Diego’s neck and squeezes him just a little bit tighter, trying to give Diego some of the security he’s always so good at providing for Klaus.

 

“‘Safe’ isn’t a smell, babe.”

 

“It absolutely is.”

 

“Well what does it smell like, then?”

 

“Like you,  _ duh _ .” He grins as he hears Diego’s laugh, just a little bit shakier than normal but still one of the most beautiful sounds Klaus thinks he’s ever heard, “and like--you know how people talk about home being a smell? That’s you. You smell like home, and like I don’t have to be scared of anything.” He yawns--he’s always so goddamn  _ tired  _ after a major panic attack like that, and he kind of just wants to shuffle him and Diego over to the couch and pass out right on top of Diego’s chest, “it’s a really nice smell.”

 

It’s quiet for a moment, Klaus content to just enjoy being held, before Diego breaks the comfortable silence, “I, uh, I guess you should maybe remind me later to apologize to Allison for all the times I told her she was full of shit and to mind her own business.”

 

Klaus had honestly been halfway to falling asleep on his feet, and the unexpected request is enough to get him to lift his head from his spot against Diego’s neck, squinting up at him as he tried to figure out if he’d actually fallen asleep for a second and missed something.

 

Diego smiles at his expression, which is honestly more than worth the confusion, “so remember a little while ago, when you said Allison called you stupid but really she just gave you some really nice and supportive advice? It seemed to, y’know,  _ help _ , so I may have asked her for some advice myself.”

 

Klaus blinks a few times before it sinks in that, “you and Allison had Boy Talk?”

 

Diego brings one of his hands up with a smile bordering on  _ shy _ , flashing brightly colored nails that Klaus kind of can’t believe he didn’t notice before this. Klaus grabs his hand with an excited gasp, holding his own up next to Diego’s to compare colors.

 

“Oh, she did a great job, look how cute we are together! Wait, was that what you guys were talking about in here? What did she tell you?”

 

“What happened to the sacred vow of Boy Talk secrecy?”

 

Klaus snorts, rolling his eyes, “Diego, that rule obviously only applies when I’m not the one being kept out of the loop.”

 

He can’t help smiling at the sound of Diego’s laugh, not able to even pretend to pout when he sees the worry and stress that’s been present on Diego for the past week start to finally fade just a little.

 

“You’re such a brat.”

 

Klaus tucks his face back against Diego’s throat, blowing a raspberry against his neck just to hear him laugh again, “obviously, that’s why you love me.”

 

“Mhmm, one of many reasons.” The kiss Diego presses against his cheek is soft and tender and  _ wonderful _ , and Klaus can’t believe he doubted him in the first place. “She said that, uh, that instead of trying to make choices for you based on what I  _ think  _ you want, it’d be better to actually ask you first. Which, clearly, was pretty solid advice, so I guess she’s not as full of shit as I always thought she was, hence the apology I owe her. I’m gonna try to be better about that, by the way--not the apology to Allison, the whole asking you before I make assumptions thing.”

 

Klaus thinks on that for a moment before shaking his head, just a little, “it’s not all on you, though.” He can feel Diego getting ready to protest, so he pulls back just enough to make sure he’s  _ really  _ listening, “it’s not, Diego, I’m serious. I’m glad she told you to do it now, because obviously it helped, but I could have asked you if you were upset with me before I freaked out about it. I  _ should  _ have asked you.”

 

Diego smiles, soft and a little sad, “it’s not your fault, baby, I know it’s hard for you.”

 

“Yeah, so? It’s hard for you, too.” He holds up a hand when Diego opens his mouth, because this is  _ important _ , “if it’s not allowed to be all my fault, it’s not allowed to be all your fault, either. Which means it can’t be all your responsibility. I know you want to, to protect me, and take care of me, and I love you  _ so much  _ for that but I’m not so fucked up that I can’t help shoulder the load of communication between us. At least, I’d like to think there’s still hope for me.”

 

“No, you--you’re right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

 

Klaus sighs, but there’s no heat behind it, “Diego, listen to me. You are allowed to fuck up. I certainly do, it’s my biggest personality trait at this point.” He smiles when he sees Diego set his jaw, because it’s the same stubborn look he gets whenever Klaus talks down on himself within his earshot, “okay, fine, maybe not my  _ biggest _ one. The point still stands, I’m not letting you take all the blame for this. We  _ both  _ could have done better with the whole communicating thing, but the important thing is we’re doing it now, right?”

 

“Yeah, you’re right.”

 

“I mean, obviously, I always am.”

 

The muttered  _ brat  _ earns Diego a nip to his chin, both of them laughing, and Klaus can say with certainty that he at least is the most relaxed he’s felt this whole damn week.

 

“Could you--will you tell me, though, if I do something, anything, that you don’t like?”

 

The request makes Klaus’s heart pound, but he can see how important this is to Diego, and besides that he  _ trusts  _ Diego, so he nods despite the slight unease, “yeah, I’ll--I’ll try my best, okay?”

  
The smile that gets him, soft and warm and so goddamn full of  _ love _ , soothes him enough that he can let himself relax back into Diego’s embrace, safe and secure in the only  _ home  _ that’s ever really mattered to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Side note, the rating may or may not go up as this goes on. I have never tried my hand at any kind of explicit smut so we'll see if I'm brave enough to try with these two, but if anything does get explicit I'll give a heads up before hand!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at feelingwarmandbright, and as always comments and feedback are very very much appreciated!


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